Fly On The Wall

Haven’t we all wished at some point in our lives that we could be the proverbial “fly on the wall” and listen in on someone’s conversations? Maybe you wished you could have overheard what your parents were talking about in their bedroom when you showed up back home from summer camp a few pounds overweight…well, pregnant actually. The water glass against their bedroom wall let you make out a few shouted words like: “shameless” and “whore” but you have no way of knowing if they were used in a sentence like: “Thank God our daughter isn’t some shameless whore.” That’s probably what it was though. Or maybe it would have been neat-o to hear what your college roommate’s friend had to say about you after you took her on that blind date your roommate set up. Christ knows you never got the chance to ask her yourself, what with the stupid restraining order and all.

We here at Oh, For ****’s Sake spend an inordinate amount of time wondering about what goes on behind closed doors, mostly because a lot of those doors get closed right in our face when we try to enter them. Through the miracle of technology, and a none-too conservative dose of peyote fueled hallucino-imagination, we’ve been able to listen in on and/or fabricate some of the everyday goings on of some of our cultural elite. For clarity’s sake, the transcripts include the speaker’s names in order to avoid possible confusion:

At Home With Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes, and Suri Cruise:

“Pardon me? Oh, gosh no! Tom doesn’t run! He holds on to the baby when I go for a run to make sure I come back! He’s real helpful with my motivation. To stay with him, that is.”

Tom: Katie! Kaaatiiee! Where are you Katie?!

Katie: I’m right here Tom, across the dining room table from you. I’ve been here the whole time. You can put Suri back in her high chair now.

Tom: Oh, thank goodness! I though you had run off and I was going to have to, you know.

Suri: Does Mommy need to go back to the Scienterology center for more training Daddy?

Tom: Maybe Honey, we’ll see.

Suri: She probably should Daddy, she’s acting like a real asshole.

Tom: Yes she is, Suri. Yes she is.

Kicking Around the House With Gerard Butler and Jennifer Aniston:

They seem so perfectly content together. In split screen.

Jen: Brad, have you seen my cigarettes?

Ger: I think you threw them out the car window again when that paparazzo just about caught you lighting up back at the grocery store. I can go and get you a new pack if you want, Rachel.

Jen: Would you Brad? That is so nice, it’s just like something Brad would do.

Ger: Hey Rachel, it’s the least I can do. After all you did say you were going to invite Monica over for a threesome this afternoon. I think I’ll stop by Industrial Light and Magic on the way and have them CGI back in my abs for this afternoon as a special treat for you girls.

Jen: That would be wonderful Brad! And I know you would never do something like that for Angelina would you? Well, WOULD YOU??!!

A Little Light Pillow Talk With James Cameron and Satan:

Funny, the Devil on the shoulder is quite a bit bigger in real life than generally represented in the mainstream animation media (cartoons).

James: Well, I’ve got the two biggest grossing movies of all time now, asterisks be damned. I don’t even know what I need you for anymore.

Satan: Hey, what the Hell? I give you all this, make you King of the World, and this is the thanks I get? A wham-bam, thank you Satan? I’m the King of the Underworld, we make a Hell of a great team. *Sigh*, I’ve really got to quit beating people over the head with the “Hell” thing.

James: I just feel like I’ve accomplished a lot, and you got your fair share what with all the people that committed suicide after forcing themselves to sit all the way through Avatar.

Satan: Hey, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all of the damned souls, I just don’t see why we can’t keep the ball rolling. You must have countless more pedestrian, childish screenplays up your sleeve, and I can keep casting the spells over the world to make them love them. Except the fucking critics! Of all the people for God to favour, why the critics?

James: Well now that you mention it, I do have a few ideas. More like ham-fisted simplistic notions really, but hey, that’s your department to help with that!

Has Anyone Told Them Yet?

I think we can all agree that it has happened to us a time or two. You know what I’m talking about. Those times when you were blissfully going through life completely unaware that there was some disastrous wardrobe malfunction happening to you or that you had a stain of some kind on your shirt. I think we have all experienced these things, and wondered why the hell no one had taken the opportunity to warn us or bring the problem to our attention so we could correct it.

What’s that? It’s never happened to you? Come on. You mean to tell me that you have never, and I mean never, not even once, given a speech at a Toastmasters meeting with a gigantic booger stuck to the side of your face? Or perhaps put on a seminar on personal motivation or life improvement in front of thousands of people without realizing you had sprung an enormous boner the whole time (fucking Cialis)? Seriously? How about teaching an entire Sunday School class with one testicle wafting in the breeze out the leghole of your Jimmy Connors Special Edition Tennis Shorts? No? Well then turn the page, my friend, this post is not for you.

Now, back to my point, now that the “real world stuff has never happened to me” losers have left the room. There are people out there today who are living the whole life equivalent of the “booger stuck to the side of the face” scenario, and they may not even be aware of it. I feel it is my mission to help point out that nasty ol’ booger on these people’s faces so that they may have some chance of regaining some of their dignity:

Miley Cyrus in human form, taking a break from her true existence as a ginormous pile of money.

Poor Miley. I mean, she is really living the good life on the surface of it. In fact, I heard they might be considering changing the saying “Life of Riley” to “Life of Miley.” Let’s face it, she has more money than God, millions of adoring fans, and two of the two teenage boys living in my house would sell both kidneys to go on a date with her. Unfortunately, no one appears to have ever told her that the Billy Ray Cyrus that claims to be her father (pending conclusion of the orphanage baby-snatching investigation), is also the same Billy Ray Cyrus that stained our psyches and lowered the collective IQ of the world with the super awesome country ditty “Achy Breaky Heart." Does this poor child realize the suffering her so-called father’s past has wreaked upon the world? And the mullet, don’t get me started on the fucking mullet. I swear to God, there was an episode of Dr. Phil the other day in which “survivors” detailed how they had managed to keep from committing suicide after realizing they had been deflowered in the rusty box of an old Ford pickup truck to Billy’s caterwauling of “Achy Breaky Heart.” Somebody help this child.

“Hey, I know you. I’m gonna kiiilll youuu!”

Well Hillary, you’ve done pretty well for yourself. From First Lady to Secretary of State. Not bad. I just feel like right now would be a good time to point out a little booger on the side of your face. Your husband is a philandering dickhead! And a liar! Believe it or not, even in Washington, you don’t have to put up with that bullshit. You could kick his ass to the curb tomorrow and no one would give a shit. Hell, your approval rating would probably even rise from like one, to three or four percent. Just a little suggestion to help you out should you choose to decide to not live the life of the spurned wife. Please tell me you haven’t gotten back at him in kind though. It bothers me to think of some skinny Latino pool boy rocking on a toilet in your ensuite, reciting the Rosary to himself, waiting for you to call him into your boudoir.

“Hey, hoser! Have you seen our careers?”

Finally, we have the plucky little nation of Canada. It’s about time somebody let you know that your balls are hanging out. Long story short, the world does not give a shit what you think. Americans don’t want to hear about your awesome healthcare system and it’s ever shortening list of people who have died waiting for life saving surgeries. Europeans don’t give a flying fart that your ridiculously insulated, money grubbing, overcharging, fat and lazy chartered banks weathered the world recession on the back of increasing ATM usage fees. People in Iran don’t care that you walked out on their Supreme Leader’s speech at the UN. They don’t care because they are making nukes to bomb your smug ass. Oddly enough, the opinions of a nation of thirty some million overprivileged crackers just don’t matter to most of the world with problems a little more important than what to do about that darn Quebec thing. I am afraid, Canada, that your inflated self-importance has become the on-stage boner shame of a nation.